


let's do this outside (shut down the whole block)

by meltedmarsbar



Series: give me the dry desert heat, brings out the animal in me [1]
Category: 13 Reasons Why (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Blood, M/M, alex and monty are kind of gay its cute, basically the summertime werewolf au no one wanted, monty is scott mccall, not rly but monty's a teen wolf and the others don't know its kind of a new development, there's ??? blood mentioned??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-23 12:54:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10719732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meltedmarsbar/pseuds/meltedmarsbar
Summary: "Fuck you, Standall," Monty says, casually raising his middle finger to flip him off.The crunch of the popsicle wrapper in Alex's fist isn't something that Monty should be able to hear, but he does. And when the paper ball sails through the air, Monty hears the slightwhooshand catches it without so much as seeing it, then turns around again to wink at Alex smugly.Fuck yeah.Alex looks half offended, half grudgingly impressed with his brows furrowed and lips parted. He shakes his head, asks, "How the fuck did you do that?" while walking over to rip the paper out of Monty's hand.Their fingers brush, and Monty gives Alex his best shit eating grin, is like, "You ever watched Teen Wolf, Alex? I'm Scott McCall."akathe summertime werewolf au that nobody asked for





	let's do this outside (shut down the whole block)

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Double Vision by 3OH!3.

**i.**

Cruising with the windows down is significantly less fun with Zach hogging the aux cord, because this is the third time in a row that he's played Burnin' Up by the Jonas Brothers, and if Monty has to hear about slipping into the lava and trying to keep from going under one more time? He's going to crash the damn car.

It occurs to him for a moment that he'd just walk it off, and Zach would fly out the front window.

That's what happens when you don't wear your fucking seatbelt.

"I'm gonna fucking kill you," Justin says from the backseat, gripping the passenger seat and leaning forward, grabbing for Zach's phone.

That's when it gets a little chaotic.

Alex says, "Justin, sit down!", Monty snaps, "I'm tryna fucking keep us on the road!", and Zach increases the volume to 100%, which is a lot fucking louder to Monty than it is to any of the others in the car.

Nick Jonas croons, _baby, you turn the temperature hotter,_ right as Monty swerves — taking them right off the road — and slams on power button of the stereo. His head feels like it's about to fucking explode even after the Jo Bros are cut off, and Monty sits there for a moment, hands gripping the steering wheel tight.

No one says anything for a while, but Monty can hear all their heartbeats, can practically smell confusion from Zach and Justin, and the anxiety rolling off Alex. He's about to open his mouth and apologise, feed them some bullshit lies, but then Alex breaks the silence with a, "Dude, you okay?"

"Fuckin' peachy," he says, stepping on the gas as Justin grumbles, "Fucking _psycho_."

It stings a little, because, like — it's not like he _wanted_ this to fucking happen. Yeah, Zach doesn't know that he's a fucking _werewolf_ , of all things, and that his hearing range has gone up what seems to be an infinite amount, but it's still annoying as fuck.

Alex pats his forearm somewhat uncertainly, and Monty's shoulders untense just a little. It's involuntary — since he turned, he's been feeling more than a little touch starved. It's nothing that fucking a few chicks can't fix, but Monty usually makes it a point to never stay the night, so he's still falling asleep alone most of the time, which was never an issue before fucking _lycanthropy_ became a problem.

"Next time we're taking my car," Zach says, turning the stereo back on and scrolling through what Monty can only assume is his playlist from seventh grade, and, just like that, Zach somehow manages to diffuse the tension.

When Zach starts playing Starboy — Justin's choice — Alex scoffs, says, "Do you only listen to fuckboy music?" and Monty's a little offended, because Starboy's, like, number seventeen on his top twenty-five most played songs on iTunes.

Justin and Alex start to argue, and Monty glances over at Zach, who just grins and holds out a flask to Monty. He can smell the scotch from here, so he knows it's from Zach's dad's liquor cabinet.

As he takes the offered flask, he notices that Zach's seatbelt is on.

* * *

**ii.**

They might not be each other's first choice for hanging out, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Summer means people are busy — summer camp, sports camp, family vacations, jobs — so when Monty texted Alex and told him to come over, he hadn't been expecting a yes.

_**monty python:** dude come over and play call of duty w me_

_**standnone:** did you text the wrong person_

_**monty python:** no wtf just come over, i've got soda and shit_

_**standnone:** i'll be there in 15_

That was twenty minutes ago, so Monty's taken to lying on his couch with his head over the edge, letting the blood rush to his brain, just waiting. He sends Alex a Snapchat video of himself waiting and looking impatient, and Alex replies, _are you actually listening to tokyo drift,_ to which Monty types, _just get your ass over here_.

As soon as he presses the send button, his doorbell rings, and he yells, "It's open!"

"No photos, please," Alex says sarcastically, as he walks into the house. "I come bearing banana bread."

"God, you're a desperate housewife."

"Fuck off, my mom made me bring it. I'm stealing any and all ice cream you've got, dude, it's fucking hot out there."

Monty sits up right, looks over the couch to see Alex walking over to him, a cherry popsicle in hand.

"Did you walk here? It's like, a hundred and fifteen degrees out, what the fuck."

Alex shrugs, stopping a couple of feet away at. He can't talk with the popsicle in his mouth, and Monty smirks, because —

"Looks like you're pretty good at that."

The look Alex gives him is an amused one, and as Monty turns his attention back to the TV, Alex says, "Why, you thinking of me sucking your dick?"

"Fuck you, Standall," Monty says, casually raising his middle finger to flip him off.

The crunch of the popsicle wrapper in Alex's fist isn't something that Monty should be able to hear, but he does. And when the paper ball sails through the air, Monty hears the slight _whoosh_ and catches it without so much as seeing it, then turns around again to wink at Alex smugly.

Fuck yeah.

Alex looks half offended, half grudgingly impressed with his brows furrowed and lips parted. He shakes his head, asks, "How the fuck did you do that?" while walking over to rip the paper out of Monty's hand.

Their fingers brush, and Monty gives Alex his best shit eating grin, is like, "You ever watched Teen Wolf, Alex? I'm Scott McCall."

Alex scoffs, says, "Fuck you, Montgomery," but then his heart rate spikes just a little, and, like.

Like —

Maybe if Alex's lips weren't stained red by that cherry popsicle then Monty wouldn't have glanced that them for a moment.

The unsteady thumping of Alex's heart means that he noticed.

_Fuck._

"You wish, motherfucker," Monty finally says, after they've been silent for a few moments too long — enough to make things pretty awkward.

To his credit, Alex just snorts and rolls his eyes, plopping down on the couch next to Monty. "Bite me, asshole."

Alex doesn't get why Monty laughs until there are tears in his eyes and his belly hurts, but he ends up chuckling himself — incredulously at first, but Monty's laughing so fucking hard that Alex can't help but laugh along with him, even if he doesn't know what they're laughing about.

"God, it wasn't even that funny," Alex finally says, shaking his head as Monty tries to stifle his laughter. Because he actually fucking bit Alex, he's about 90% sure Alex wouldn't like the fangs that might crop up. It'd taking him biting one of his hookup's necks for him to realise that, yeah, werewolves tended to partially shift when too near a blood source if not in control.

She'd kicked him out after that, and Monty had the horrible realisation that blood actually tasted pretty decent.

It'd been a weird night.

"Finish your fucking popsicle," Monty finally manages to get out once he's mostly done laughing. He shifts so he's lying down with his head next to Alex's thigh, and when he looks up he can see Alex's lips wrapped around the popsicle and the veins in Alex's neck, faint blue and red against his pale skin.

Monty spends the entire time Alex is over thinking of sinking his teeth into Alex's neck, and how Alex smells like freshly baked bread and kinda like apple juice.

* * *

**iii.**

The thing is, it's been a couple of months, and Monty still doesn't know who the fuck turned him, and he sure as hell isn't getting any help. He keeps expecting his own Derek Hale to pop up and be all, _"we're brothers now"_ or _"the bite is a gift"_ , but so far? No dice.

It's not like he's got a Stiles either. Sure, he's got his boys and all, but none of them know, and it's not exactly the kind of thing he could just bring up. Like — he tried telling Bryce once, but he just gave Monty a look and said, "Bro, ease up on the weed."

So, yeah. Not that encouraging. But he's still got to try and control his temper, especially when people start saying shit that Monty isn't supposed to hear, but now does.

If Marcus thought his shirts were lame, the asshole could've just said it to his face.

It's worse around full moons, because his bloodlust (that's the best way he can describe it, thanks to his little brother's werewolf obsession a couple of years ago) is at its peak, and he'd learned that the hard way last month when Tyler popped out out of fucking nowhere and started taking photographs during baseball practice.

It'd taken both Bryce and Jeff to yank Monty off Tyler.

Basically, the full moon and Monty definitely aren't friends, and the next one is only a couple of days away.

"You're staring into space again," Alex says to him, and Monty blinks, looking over at the blonde. The memories of Tyler looking horrified have been playing over and over again in his head all fucking night — he's taken shot after shot, but even after things started to seem a little more shaky, and little more slow, all he can think of is how he almost raked his claws across Tyler's throat.

His eyes drift to the bottle of vodka in his hand.

"Maybe if you were more interesting I wouldn't have to," he replies, then drains the rest of the vodka in a few gulps. They're at Bryce's, so there's enough liquor around here to get an elephant drunk, and Monty really, _really_ needs to get plastered tonight.

"Vodka straight?" Alex raises an eyebrow. "What'd you do, Monty?"

"The fuck do you mean?"

"You're guilt drinking."

"Fuck off, no I'm not."

"Right," Alex says, propping his head up with one of his hands, drumming his fingers on the table in between them, "you probably don't even know what guilt is, huh?"

And that — that makes Monty's blood boil, one he processes what Alex means. Through the haze of all the alcohol he's chugged tonight, he vaguely places the feeling as fury. It feels like there's acid running through him, starting from the knot in his throat as he tries to even out his breathing.

Bryce and the others are on a pizza run, and he doesn't want them to come back to Alex with his throat ripped out.

"You think you're so fucking smart," Monty snarls, lashing out through his words instead, tightening his grip on the empty bottle of Grey Goose. "You don't know _anything_ about me, Standall, so _FUCK YOU_."

He's right up in Alex's face now, but apparently alcohol makes Alex stupidly brave, because the asshole's just grinning, like this is all a fucking joke, and Monty curls his right hand into a fist —

And the bottle shatters, glass shards falling to the floor and piercing Monty's skin at the same time, and Monty winces, shaking out his hand as Alex reaches for his hand, tugging it towards him. There's a gash, for sure, and Monty's palm is bleeding. And it hurts like a _bitch_.

"Shit," Alex says, sounding frantic, worried. He's got his fingers curled around Monty's wrist and fingers, exposing his palm. "Uh — fuck, do the Walkers have, like, a first aid kit? A live-in nurse?"

That actually makes Monty snort, because — honestly? That wouldn't be a stretch when it came to the Walkers. Like, they have a _pool house_. Who the fuck _actually_ has a _pool house_?

"You gonna be a pussy and cry on it like in Harry Potter?" Monty asks, and he thinks Alex is about to snap that _it's not fucking funny, asshole_ , but then the other boy gasps, and it only takes Monty a moment to realise why.

The skin on Monty's palm is fusing itself back together, healing right in front of Alex, who is drunk and high at the same time.

"Jesus fuck," Alex whispers, gripping Monty's wrist like a lifeline, sounding scared. "Monty — Monty, what the hell?" Alex's heart is beating double time, and, fuck, Monty's too fucking drunk to deal with this shit, he's not equipped to come up with excuses every time someone sees something suspicious because, God, being turned didn't come with a fucking _handbook_. This is one of his _friends_ , and it hits Monty like a ton of bricks just how terrified he is to have someone find out and be _scared_ of him, of what he can do. Of what he did to Tyler when he lost control.

"Alex," he starts, the fingers of the hand Alex isn't clinging to sliding under Alex's chin, tilting it up so their eyes lock. Alex's breathing gets heavier, and he swallows, but he doesn't pull away, so Monty continues. "Alex, man — you're freaking out, I need you to calm the fuck down, okay? I can expla—"

"Yo," Zach calls from the door way, Justin, Marcus and Bryce right behind him. Monty can smell the pizza, should've smelt it earlier, actually, but he was too focused on Alex to notice.

Zach stops, staring at the two of them, at Alex clutching Monty's hand and Monty holding Alex's face.

Just like that, Monty rips his hand out of Alex's hold, steps away from him. "Thank god, I'm fucking starving," he says, walking away from Alex and yanking a pizza box out of Zach's hands. He pushes past the others and keeps going, but he can still _hear_ them, can hear Bryce telling Alex that he must've just been hallucinated Monty's cut healing, that there probably wasn't a cut at all. Can still see the dumbfounded look on Zach's face when he saw the two of them.

Monty breaks into a run.

He just — he just needs a fucking moment.

* * *

**iv.**

_**standnone:** you never came back last night_

_**standnone:** i know what i saw monty_

_**standnone:** what the fuck was that?_

_**standnone:** dude youve got your fucking read receipts on i know you're seeing these_

_**monty python:** you were drunk and high as fuck._

_**standnone:** fuck you i'm not crazy i know what i fucking saw_

_**standnone:** your fucking palm just stitched itself back together_

_**standnone:** you're not actually scott mccall, are you?_

_**standnone:** monty?_

_**monty python:** talk to me when you dont sound fucking crazy._

_**standnone:** fuck you._

* * *

**v.**

Full moons are fucking _bullshit,_ because — it's like this. Monty still doesn't know what exactly to expect. The first two times, he'd shifted completely and fucking ruined his clothes — getting back home was awful, but he couldn't stay there, couldn't put his parents and little brother in danger like that.

The worst part had been the blood under his fingernails, and how his heart sank when he realised he had no way of figuring out if it was his own.

The next two times, he'd managed to control himself a little better, only shifted halfway. It'd been a real fucking challenge, but he'd managed, somehow. At the very least, his clothes had remained in tact, and there hadn't been blood everywhere.

But if full moons are awful, the day after is downright brutal. He usually feels like he's been roofied — everything fucking hurts, and the night feels like a big blur.

This time is no exception.

"Shit," he moans, pushing himself up on his palms, wincing as he tries to get to his knees and survey the damage. There's dirt below his palms — the forest, maybe? That's where he's ended up three out of four times, so it's, like. On brand, at least.

The fabric of his shirt is sticking to his skin, so Monty glances down, and just _stares_. Stares at the still wet blood on his blue T-shirt. At the blood caked underneath his nails.

_Fuck._

"Fuck," he mumbles, hot tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. He can't help but start to shake, and he wraps his arms around himself, like he's trying to hold himself together. Keep himself from falling apart.

From being ripped to shreds, which, for all he knows, he could've done to someone else.

As if his day wasn't already a fucking shit show, who else's voice would Monty hear but Alex's. Yelling his name, over and over. At the very least, he's alone, but Monty's not feeling very grateful at the moment.

The shouting gets louder, and he can hear the anxiety in Alex's tone, but Monty can't physically bring himself to call out for Alex, of all fucking people, so he pushes himself up all the way, and sees Alex's bleached blonde hair in the distance. Sees Alex running towards him. Hears the crunch of the twigs and leaves beneath his feet.

"Monty," Alex sounds slightly hysterical, and his hands are cold against the warm skin of Monty's face — it takes Monty a moment to realise that Alex is swiping the tears off his cheeks with the pads of his thumbs.

Monty hadn't even known he'd started crying.

"God, you fucking asshole — who did this to you? You texted me and didn't text back, and I — I was losing my shit trying to find you. Who _hurt_ you?"

"Hey," Monty says, swaying on his feet. He's not sure how to tell Alex that he probably hurt someone else, not the other way around, but Alex is being kind to him. That makes everything feel too heavy, and Monty feels so light headed. He just wants Alex to bring him home so he can take a nap, but he thinks he'd bleed all over Alex's sheets, and his mom does the laundry, so Monty wouldn't be able to clean them properly for Alex. He can't even use a drier. "I don't know how to use a drier."

The last thing he remembers is Alex's horrified face as Monty collapses at his feet, his cold hands on Monty's face, Alex frantically saying his name, and the scent of freshly baked bread and apple juice.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry I ended it there but this is part of a series so !!! It'll be okay I swear. Come yell about 13 Reasons Why with me on [my Tumblr](http://courtneycrimsen.tumblr.com).


End file.
